Mirrors, An Orphan Black Prequel
by itsirmster
Summary: A background story into the life of Beth Childs and Alison Hendrix prior to the show. A fic co-written by tumblr users krazyhippo66 (Sydney) and cosimageekhaus (Irma) . Chapters will be posted here and on our respective tumblr blogs.
1. Chapter 1

**Written by cosimageekhaus (Irma)**

_August 22nd, 4: 15 p.m._

The late Canadian summer afternoon in one of the suburbs right outside of Toronto was passing by slowly, the minutes dragging past as the only sound that could be heard were showtunes coming from the car speakers, their purpose only to break the silence that was banging in her ears.

_Clones. _

That word was on her mind more than anything else in the previous two weeks and she caught herself rolling it off her lips sometimes, just to feel the taste of it in her mouth, since her brain was still baffled at the thought. Being in the police force, the thought of it alone seemed outrageous, not to mention that the whole concept was illegal, yet she was not as eager to run to her senior partner and tell him all about the crazy phonecall she had gotten one late night that she spent in front of the TV with a bottle of whiskey while waiting for her boyfriend. She had initially thought that the German was an insane woman who had dialed the wrong number.

And there she now was, sitting in her black Jaguar, the aviators pulled to the top of her nose in case one of the neighbor's passed by, her eyes focused firmly on one of the doors where she would come out of any minute now.

_Alison Hendrix. _A mother of two, a housewife that coaches kids in her free time, a former ballerina raised in the suburbs, graduated from college, unnaturally attached to the color of pink and a spit image of the detective who was sitting in the car, holding her notes, on which were scribbled times, dates and happenings in the Hendrix household from the previous two weeks.

Beth Childs has been on the lookout in that exact same spot, or a little bit down the street since the moment her face recognition results came up with two of the others in North America, and after she had decided to approach the one who was the closest first.

Getting the schedule of Alison Hendrix's activities was incredibly easy, since her punctuality was so spot on that it was almost impressive, and her days always the same that it was almost pitiful. Every day, early in the mornings, she would drop off her kids at school after her husband would leave for work, then return home, spend most of her morning probably cooking, cleaning or watching the reruns of Desperate Housewives. Beth would then leave for her own work at the station, fumble with the paperwork that she had to do from the moment she became the rookie, and if she was lucky, she would get to go to a scene of the crime that was not more complicated than a drug deal gone bad.

She would then go back to the suburbia after lunch, to watch the Hendrix family get back together around 4:15 p.m. every day. Saturday and Sunday were reserved for family, which included going off to what Beth supposed to be a soccer practice, and Tuesdays and Thursdays Alison stayed at home alone all day, and the husband would not get back until 3 a.m. by the time which Beth was home too, staring at the empty side of the bed where Paul should have been, but which was becoming a rare occurence as the time progressed.

The music on the radio died away, and a traffic report was up next when the front door of the Hendrix household opened, and two kids ran through them, followed by their mother's scold.

_"Don't run down the stairs, and tell Aynsley we're still up for that book club meeting on Friday!" _

Beth smirked, shaking her head and lowered herself down in her seat as the Hendrix boy and girl ran past her car, not taking a second glance. Sitting out in the car even with Neighborhood Watch was extremely easy since no one was paying attention at this time of the day or early in the mornings.

Beth could see Alison standing on the front porch her eyes never leaving her kids who ran down the street and in one of the white houses, before she turned on her heel, her back unnaturally straight and her strut making Beth hope that she never looked like that to other people.

Even after two weeks of seeing Alison Hendrix every day she was still not used to seeing someone so same yet so different in comparison to herself. Their hair was the same, save the bangs and the bands that the housewife often wore in her head, and their clothes could not be more different than they already were, since the detective cringed every time she would see a pink tank top with matching yoga pants. What they did have in comon were athletic bodies and the same facial expression when they smiled, but other than that Beth thanked god for not being at all similar to the woman who had just shut her door behind herself.

Alison Hendrix had a seemingly perfect life, with a large house, kids, a slightly plump husband that probably would never think of cheating such a good-looking wife, a book club and a safety of her home. Beth, on the other hand, had no kids, a boyfriend who was distancing himself no matter how hard she tried to keep him close, and a so-far boring job that included nothing but paperwork and dull, mundane cases that made her want to blow her brains out.

But that was what she had chosen, and she had to live with it.

The notepad slipped from her fingers and fell with a slight thud on the floor when the buzzing of her phone startled her out of her staring at Alison Hendrix's door long after she had gone back inside.

"What's up?"

"Where the hell are you, Beth? We were supposed to meet at the range fifteen minutes ago."

_Shit. _Beth thought, her eyes falling on her wristwatch to see that she was sitting there lost in her thoughts way longer than she intended.

"Relax, dipshit. I told you I was going for a run. I have that marathon next weekend, and Paul's putting me through hell."

There was a slight pause on the other side of the line.

"Alright. But drag your ass down here ASAP. I have kids to pick up and you know how my ex-wife likes to rub it in when I don't show because of spending too much time at the station."

"I know, Art. I'll be there in twenty. I just need to shower."

Once the phone had been back in her pocket, Beth picked up the notes from the floor and flipped over to Thursday of the previous week. If everything was to go according to plan, Alison's husband would be out for most of the following day, and she would be alone after her kids would go to sleep. After two weeks of watching the soccer mom's life and taking notes of it, it was finally time to meet her.

Feeling nervous like she did not in a long time, Beth pulled out her antidepressants and popped two in her mouth before driving off to meet up with her senior partner.

"Took you long enough." Art said once she pushed the door open, the ear muffs around her neck and apologetic smile tugging at the side of her lips.

"You know me. Always late after lunch." _Looks like punctuality isn't genetic._

Soon enough, Beth Childs would figure out that all of them do not share only good looks, but much, much more.

And it would make her regret ever picking up that phone after seeing the call was coming from another side of the planet.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Written by krazyhippo66 (Syd)**_

_*August 23rd, 6:47 am_

"Katja, I swear to God, you need to stop contacting me, alright? Minimum exposure, I thought we agreed."

She leaned closer to the screen, rubbing her temples. It wasn't even seven o'clock and she wanted to reach for her antidepressants. _No, Childs. It'll pass_.

"I am sorry. I was just making sure you are…alright."

Beth's brow furrowed momentarily. "Yeah. I'm fine. I mean this is _insane_ but I can't really…argue with you, now can I?" she tried to joke. It fell flat.

She ran her hand over her face before mustering up the strength to really look at Katja. It was always a slap in the face to see her eyes looking back. Her nose and her cheeks and her jaw.

"So you believe me?" The German's voice was mixed with surprise and genuine relief. "Have…you found others?"

"Yeah," Beth muttered. "I, uhh, I did some digging. Excuse me for thinking you were a little off your rocker."

Katja smiled just a little. "Well if we are still talking you must have found something."

"Yeah," Beth repeated.

"Will you help us now? Or at least consider it? Please?"

"I, uhh, I'm not even sure what you expect me to do, Katja. Honestly. I'm just a rookie detective. Haven't even worked lead in a case, yet."

"You are the youngest woman to ever make detective in Toronto, Beth, that is how I found you. That is _impressive_—"

Beth's head jerked up at the sound of the key in the door. "Shit, gotta go," she threw the lid of the laptop closed, slumping back casually in her chair. Paul walked in the door, dropping his bag off his shoulder. She took a bite of her breakfast, tilting her head, watching as he kicked his shoes off. So casual and with a looseness in his shoulders she didn't normally see. He looked up to meet her gaze, blinking in shock.

Well there went the relaxed look.

"Hey."

She ran her fingers through her hair, keeping her gaze to the side. "Hey."

"I thought you'd still be out running." He took a few careful steps forward, Beth painfully aware of the hesitant shifting of his weight. She had given up wondering what she'd done to make him so on edge. She'd given up months ago and stuck with pretending she didn't notice.

She shrugged. "I finished early. _Way_ early. If I can do that time this weekend there's no frickin' way I can't win."

He offered a smile as he walked closer. "That's awesome." He didn't sound very excited.

Even so, he bent down to give her a kiss on her cheek, reaching out to grab some of her pancake. "Hey," a laugh slipped out as she pushed his hand away, lifting up her foot to threaten to kick him. "If you'd have been here for breakfast you'd have gotten some." She more pushed him back with her foot than actually kicked him. "Make your own damn food."

He put his hands up defensively, a smirk playing at his lips. "Sorry. I'll make a note to be here before the crack of dawn."

He spun and headed for the bathroom, and she felt her heart sinking. She didn't know what was worse anymore. The loneliness that came from him being around less and less, or the lingering presence of what they used to have. She wasn't stupid. There was no getting it back. But that didn't keep her from missing it. Difference was, she'd let her hope go. She'd let _him_ go.

Maybe _that_ was what hurt the most.

"The batter's in the fridge," she called out in defeat, exhaling a little sigh.

He came back in, unbuttoning his shirt. "Thanks. I'll make some later." Turning to go back, he paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh. And I've got a dinner thing for work. You're invited."

She groaned, propping her head up with her hand. "No. God no." She shook her head.

He laughed a little. "Oh, c'mon. You used to love it."

That was true. She did used to. But she had to see Alison tonight, and spending an evening with Paul wouldn't do anything but further fuck up her nerves.

"Yeah," she admitted with a nod. "Any girl likes being shown off, man. But I can't say the people at your work are…colorful and interesting company."

He shrugged. "Okay. But, the offer still stands." He exited back into their room, Beth's gaze lingering in the empty doorway.

"I'll keep it in mind," she said blankly.

…

Alison found herself gritting her teeth as she waited in the checkout line of the grocery store. She felt lost. Or, well, the opposite of lost. She felt stuck. In a rut, somehow. _Unsatisfied_. And all she could think of to forget that fact was to bury herself deeper in her schedule. Busy herself more. Dig herself into a deeper hole with less and less of a way to get out.

She rolled her neck, clenching her jaw. The front of the liquor store just down the street kept popping back in her head, and all she could do to keep the temptation away was to remember all the judgmental stares she had gotten in the past. No more. She was done with that.

The pealing laughter of her children drew her attention, and she grabbed Gemma's wrist just as the girl was about to sprint out of line. "No, stay. Please, Mommy's tired."

"Okay."

Oscar groaned, hanging onto the edge of the cart and leaning back. "Mom, can we get out of here. Karate's at seven and I don't wanna be late—"

"Yes, thank you, I'm very aware," she snapped. She then sighed, closing her eyes. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Yes, sweetheart, I am trying my best."

_Maybe your best isn't good enough_.

The cashier's wave was enough of a distraction for her to put on a bright smile, though it felt like more and more of an effort to do so every day.

_Get the kids dinner, get them to practice, get home, clean, get the kids to bed. That's it. The night's yours after that._

It was enough to put a more genuine smile on her face.

…

She was about ready to drop when she finally turned out Gemma's light and closed the door. For long seconds, she leaned her weight up against it, trying to relieve the ache in her back. The pressure in her shoulders. When had she let things get so bad? When had she looked _forward_ to alone time instead of spending it with friends or with Donnie or even with her kids? That wasn't to say she still didn't enjoy their presence, but was it awful to admit she enjoyed the quiet most of all? Was it awful to say she looked forward to the nights she could spend just sitting around, despite the ever growing bitterness she felt toward Donnie for giving her all the extra time.

She was a hypocrite, plain and simple. The things that gave her joy were the things that ticked her off. She ignored her problems by burying herself headfirst into said problems. And yet for the most part, it worked. She wasn't happy, but she also couldn't say she was particularly unhappy. Just…somewhere in between. And she could live with that. Maybe she could live with _almost_ happy.

She made her way to the kitchen, and though she yearned for it in her very bones, she walked past the wine cabinet, pouring instead a glass of water and going to sit in front of the TV.

But just as she was getting comfortable, shifting her weigh back into the cushions and adjusting a blanket over her lap, a knocking sounded at the front door.

She frowned and checked the clock, trying her hardest to keep her annoyance down to a minimum.

Who in God's name was knocking at her door so late?


End file.
